The Fine Line Between Love and Hate
by Mraatvtey
Summary: Growing up with a person usually inspires SOMETHING. But when it comes to Mello and Matt, was it really friends from the start? A match made in heaven? Or was there that pressing matter of the oh so easily broken line between love and hate?


**A/N:**** YES. WE ARE BACK. 8D With a fic. WAMMY'S STYLE. For now, in any case. And yes, this time we have a plan to write TOGETHER all the way through.  
And yes...the rating shall go up. It is 'T' right now because Matt has an amazingly foul mouth. As does Mello. What else do you expect?  
OH. And, like before, Matty will be writing, well, Matt. And Raven will be writing Mello. Got it? Got it. Good. Onto the fic 'cause we know that's what ya want.**

**Matt's POV**

_Nudge._

"Matt."

My fingers continued mashing against the much abused buttons on my GameBoy, seemingly oblivious to the attempt at getting my attention. I had a pair of headphones on, but the volume was turned down low enough that I could still hear what was going on around me. I mean, I wasn't so stupid as to completely block out the world around myself. That was one thing this institution taught you _not_ to do at _any cost._

Like we weren't just a bunch of kids.

"_Matt."_

More nudging. By now I was debating whether it was really worth it to continue ignoring the annoying-nudger-person.

"_Matthew!"_ Nope. Definitely not worth it.

I slowly pulled the headphones away from my ears, tilting my head back to look at the blond perched on the arm of the chair I had sprawled over a few hours ago. Yes _hours_, according to both the clock, and my butt. The fat armchairs in the main room really weren't as comfortable as they looked, you know.

Setting my butt-related problems aside, my attention was tugged back towards the previously dubbed annoying-nudger-person I actually discovered to be a, ah, friend of mine. "For the billionth time, Dix, it's just Matt. What would be the point of having a nickname for an alias?"

Dixie just gave me that look. The one that says "Jesus Matt, make me feel bloody stupid why don'tcha?". Only she wouldn't say it like that. Actually, I don't think she'd say it at all, seeing as she never has yet I get that look all the time. It kinda makes me feel bad.

I cough when she doesn't say anything. You know, one of those "get the hell on with it so I can get back to my game" coughs. (And yeah, before you ask, I _do_ have an insanely long label for everything). Instead of a worded answer, she nudged me again, pointing somewhere behind me, a particular look in her eyes.

I knew that look.

Without her having to say anything, I knew that we were adding another kid to our ranks. Number 62 to join us at Wammy's House for Extraordinary (extraordinarily fucked up) Children.

I was curious, there wasn't much denying that. The majority of us always were. I think it had something to do with seeing if there could possibly be someone more fucked up than who we already had here. At least, that's what it was for me. I mean...the more messed up, the more interesting.

Unfortunately I'd never found anyone _that_ interesting. Dixie was alright, yeah, but she'd kind of adopted me and wormed her way into friend status. Not to say it was a bad thing. Roger was always saying I needed to be more social. Which really made no sense seeing as L had to be the most anti-social creature on the goddamn planet.

But, I'm getting side tracked. Blame it on the hyperactive brain. (Actually exists, yeah. _Not_ ADHD or some bull.)

Thankfully, my attention was snapped back into place by the thin kid that was very obviously our new arrival. Glaringly obvious, really, based on both the fact that I was positive I hadn't seen the blonde before, and the fact that slender fingers were curled tightly, and I mean white knuckled tight, around what appeared to be a set of prayer beads.

If I knew anything about my peers, and trust me I knew a lot, it was that _no one_ was religious. Don't ask me why, I couldn't tell you.

Side tracked again. My thoughts moved away from the beads that were being clutched at, to the kid's face. Right as Dixie prodded me again, only in a particular place that sent a yelped swear flying out of my lips. She squeaked an apology, although she sounded like she was fighting back laughter. That much was made clear when I turned to look at her again, catching her hands fluttering over her mouth to hide her grin. I rolled my eyes, not that she would see it. Force of habit, I guess.

"So what do you think?" She asked, more than likely as means to distract both me and herself from her amusement.

"Uhm...I think my ass hurts?"

I got that look again. Only, it was the reverse of the look before. More a look that made it seem like she was just about to roll her eyes. Which she didn't, but it was the thought that counted- right? "I mean of that new girl. What do you think?"

I glanced back over at the, ah, girl? No. "Dix. That's a dude. You know, a bloke? Guy? He has a penis," Just as was to be expected, a flush settled over her cheeks. Hah. Payback is a bitch, huh? Well, not really, but you've never seen any real payback from me. Trust me when I say _that_ is a damn pain.

"...No way, Matt." Dixie had her eyes focused on the new guy now, scrutinizing him. Her nose crinkled slightly, and she glanced back at me, shaking her head. "Looks like a girl to me," She shrugged, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, peeking back at the guy through the corners of her eyes.

Despite the fact that I didn't want to get up, no matter how sore I knew my butt would get if I didn't, I also didn't want to lose this. That was a guy, there was no doubt in my mind. And I couldn't convince Dixie without making sure myself. So there was only one thing to do.

I stood up, a few joints popping as a stretched. My plan, you see, was to casually walk up to the kid and ask him what exactly he (or she if I were to think like Dixie) was. Smart, right?

Well, it would have worked (maybe) had I not tripped over...thin air? Tripped over _something_, just as I was within speaking range. Of course, that being the case, the only speech that came out was some swear word out of my very colorful vocabulary. Which, must have been attention grabbing in itself, as the kid turned to face me.

...Putting his, ah, vital areas right in front of my face. Great view, mind you...if you were gay. The pants didn't leave much to the imagination. Well, save for my wondering over whether he'd owned the same pair of pants for years and had no choice but to wear them as he didn't have any others. I mean, who in their right mind would wear jeans like that?

Uhm. Anyway...We both seemed to realize I was staring in the same instance. Mainly 'cause I could feel his glare trying to burn a hole in me, and I could feel my face heating up again. Quickly, I jumped to my feet, flashing a grin to cover up my embarrassment. "Just had something to check. Nice to meet'cha," I gave him a friendly thumbs up before returning, and not hurrying I swear, back to the chair where Dixie sat with an expression that was a mixture between chagrin and amusement.

"Totally a guy," I informed her, before returning to my monster infested, pixilated world.

* * *

**Mello's POV**

You know you're off to a bad start when the first thing that happens in your new home is some little fag kid nearly face planting himself into your crotch. My fists clenched tighter, which I hadn't even known they could do. The rosary in my left hand was going to leave dents in my skin, I knew.

One good glare he didn't even have to see and the kid was scrambling back to his little friend. Maybe now he'd leave me alone. He seemed smart enough, and if the reputation of this school could be trusted, he was a smart kid to be here in the first place.

His embarrassing act had everyone staring at me, and, though I didn't usually protest attention, I didn't like the way they were all staring at me as if I was a new specimen to observe.

Fuck Roger and his idea that I need to socialize and get some friends. As cliché as it sounds, I don't need friends. I've gotten along for ten years without them, and there's no need for me to start now.

Lucky for me, I have a near perfect memory so I know exactly how to get to my new room from the short tour Roger gave me this morning. Turn left, up one flight of stairs, turn left again, take the second right, and it's the fifth door on the left.

Apparently, the staff here didn't believe that these kids were capable of stealing, because there were no locks on the door. That wouldn't do. I decided as soon as the next new kid arrived I'd start a theft chain to fix the lock problem. For now, time to see what hell of a room I'd be forced to "settle" into.

Talk about a day going from bad to worse.

There was nothing in the contract about a roommate. Miha-Mello (this new name was going to take some getting used to) does not play well with others. Period. I don't care how sweet or calm you are, I don't like you. I especially don't like pretty boys who have their sink littered with hair gel and other products. You're ten years old, kid. Girls don't even like you yet.

Somehow, someway, I would get a room all to myself. For now, I didn't spend too much time planning how I would get it, because I knew it would take time and not-so-careful planning based on the characteristics of my potential roommate.

Roger had someone bring up my bag already. How considerate of him. Too bad I wouldn't be unpacking. This roommate thing was only a temporary situation so for the time being I would live out of my duffel. People did it on camping trips all the time; it couldn't be that hard.

I easily picked out my bed as the one that didn't have a sky blue airplane comforter on top. I didn't even know the kid yet, and I already hated him more than I hated the rest of the kids I didn't know. He couldn't decide if he was seventeen or four years old. Maybe he was gender confused as well as age-confused. Wouldn't that be different.

No sooner had I sat on my bed that I realized I wouldn't have to wait much longer to meet my temporary roommate. For that matter, I wouldn't have to wait at all. The doorknob turned, clicked open, and the door swung open to reveal a pale little kid shorter than me with dark hair that looked dyed (seriously, what kind of operation are they running here?) and gelled, though neither of them were done very well.

He had hardly had time to notice I was there before I stood up and got in his face with the hardest glare I could muster.

"Listen up. I don't know who you are, and frankly I don't care, but this isn't permanent, so don't try being friends or any of that shit, and while I'm in here, this is my room. Got it?" His eyes widened slightly, though he didn't look too afraid. Probably had a rough childhood as a kid, like most of us here had.

Not that it mattered. I really wasn't interested in hearing his story.

"Good luck getting Roger to agree." He didn't look away from me, but he wasn't necessarily defending himself either, which suited me just fine.

"He'll agree." That being said, I slipped my rosary around my neck, grabbed a bar of chocolate from out of my duffel bag, and stalked out of the room to find someplace quiet.


End file.
